by Cee Smith
Weeks passed and it felt like things had finally returned to some semblance of normality. Laughter was becoming a common sound in our home, with the addition of Jessa. It made me happy to see Hailey back to her carefree nature, with only the occasional gloominess our situation was sure to bring. On those days, I usually made sure that Jessa got her out of the house with the assistance of Scout.
After a short period of time, I started feeling more comfortable with the idea of Hailey leaving the apartment, especially knowing that it didn’t do Hailey any good to stay cooped up in the house. I feared it reminded her too much of her time spent in South Dakota. She was so fragile. When we returned to the cabin in South Dakota over Christmas, I watched her with wary eyes looking for any slip back into her former self. New York was new to her, but some days I wondered if it was too much being there. It was so drastically different from where she was from, and with it being cold and with the hounding paparazzi, she wasn’t able to properly sightsee as so many transplants often do.
For the first time in months, the house was eerily quiet with the girls out doing some shopping. Even Clema and Scout were out with them. I wasn’t expecting them back for hours, so when I received a text from Scout that they were on their way back, I was a bit surprised and slightly worried that something had happened. I paced the apartment, expecting Hailey to message me with news of their unprompted return.
The end to the silence was abrupt as they escaped the elevator—their animated voices talking one over the other reached me clear back in the office. I stood in the doorway of the office, watching as they made their way into the kitchen, unloading bags on the island before finding vacant places to unwind. When my sights settled on Scout, I felt my face fall. The usually stone-faced man still looked impenetrable, but there was something in his eyes that told me the sudden return wasn’t a happy one.
Hailey, not noticing the switch in my mood, turned to me standing in the doorway and said, “Hey, we weren’t done shopping. What gives?”
My silence cut through their jovial spirit until the only sound filling the air were the dying murmurs of a good day. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Hailey’s attention shift from me to Scout and back again before she began talking with Jessa in an attempt to steer the attention away from what was happening in the silent conversation that simmered between Scout and me. Hailey looked back at me one last time before Scout and I escaped to the office.
“What’s happened?” I asked Scout as soon as the office door closed behind him. Moving to the edge of the desk, I propped myself up, bracing myself for the crushing news he was sure to bring. Scout was never one to jump the gun, so if he was returning home unexpectedly without consulting me first, I knew it was something vital, something that he knew I needed to hear immediately.
“I received notification that one of the accounts has had a significant withdrawal.”
“Switzerland?” I said, trying to remain unemotional to the first break we’d received in years. Scout nodded his head in affirmation, and I made my way to the chair on the other side of the desk. I sunk into the leather, almost forgetting that Scout was still watching me.
That account was one of the many my parents opened in various countries that Scout and I had uncovered after I hired him as an investigator more than ten years ago. The summer after I graduated high school, my parents took the first vacation they’d had alone in years. It was off the coast of Greece where they went missing, leaving me with a business to run and an endless amount of questions. I threw heaps of money at search parties and excavation teams that spent countless hours looking for anything that could explain their disappearance. Six months later, I was given a name. Scout.
The information was slow like molasses and just as messy. I found out things about my parents that I had never imagined, things that shook the foundation of who I thought they were. Illegal things. Shady things. The kinds of things people disappear over. Aside from various bank accounts—each one holding no more than a couple million—there were undocumented workers and accounting records that didn’t quite add up.
While I didn’t understand what I was finding, I knew that whatever it was would tarnish my parent’s reputation and subsequently Callas Enterprises, and I couldn’t let that happen. I struggled to uncover what I could, while also burying the information before I brought Robert on as CEO. So much had happened in such a short span of time. Before I knew it, years had passed. Then I was hit with all of my medical issues, and for the first time in years, I had something else to focus on. Something new that I could throw myself into. Something that would grant me better results than the years I spent chasing ghosts.
Sometimes I think my will to survive was so strong because I still had a puzzle left unfinished, pieces still missing. Two years ago was the first time I saw Hailey, and my life changed almost overnight. I was no longer obsessed with discovering the mystery of my parents. I became enamored with her—her smile, her light, her curvy body, and her apparent innocence. She was my addiction, but one hit wasn’t enough. It got to the point where I was spending as much time studying her as I was in board meetings and planning takeovers. She was the best fucking distraction in a world where my life was meaningless.
I looked up at Scout still standing just inside the door. His body was erect—six feet of solid muscle with a shaved head that would be just as menacing if it weren’t for his barrel chest and ripped arms.
“How much was taken?” I said, my thoughts scrambling for answers in just the few words he’d said.
“Half a million. There’s still a little over a million in the account, but I’m wondering why they didn’t take it all if they knew it was there for the taking.”
“Do you have any more information? Who made the withdrawal? Was the money transferred to another account? Anything?” If he could hear the irritation in my voice, Scout didn’t react. It was the one thing I liked most about Scout; he wasn’t one to react out of emotion. He was very methodical in every word, every movement. I needed someone who could keep a clear head, when I so obviously couldn’t.
There were only two things that made me lose control: my parents and Hailey.
“I don’t have all the details yet. I came back to look into that now. I’ll let you know as soon I have something.”
Scout didn’t wait for a response before trailing off to his room to start investigating. I imagined he would be plying his sources for every ounce of information he could get. It wouldn’t take long for Scout to have what I needed, and I was sure that when he returned he would have video surveillance of the bank, account names and numbers, and a fucking genealogy map of whoever was $500,000 richer. He would probably even be able to place where the money was spent.
Three hours passed while I sat at my desk going over every detail. Images of my parents interspersed with images of the kind of people they undoubtedly were. They were criminals. I wasn’t sure what type of criminals. It mostly looked like white-collar crimes, but the fact that they were even capable of that rocked me to my very foundation. Their being criminals didn’t sit well with the memory I had of them—my mom organizing charity work with the school, my father helping build homes in impoverished countries, or how they tried so hard to instill those same values in me.
“Tell me again why we have to go to this thing,” I whined for what had to be the thousandth time that day. My mother fastened the last two buttons of my collared shirt until I looked like I was wearing a clerical collar. With her hands clutching my shoulders, she pushed me into the dining room chair.
“Don’t move.”
I watched as she left, her mess of curls bouncing with every step. Her hair held a polished sheen that seemed irregular for her usually flouncy locks. The floor-length gown swept along the floor, and I imagined she was picking up all of the dirt that my soccer cleats left behind on the few occasions when I entered the house before Clema could warn me to take them off. Her dress was a warm brown color, the shade of mud.
She re
turned with a paddle brush in hand and my answer on her tongue.
My mother’s voice was soft and eloquent. She articulated every word, and most days I questioned whether she and my dad were actually natives here and only said they were from Greece to sound exotic. It was only in hushed conversations or pet names that I saw the truth of their roots.
“I am not raising a heathen. We are going to David’s grandmother’s bedside because it is the right thing to do. One day you’ll understand what it feels like to feel someone you love slip away, to watch them die,” she composed herself with the first stroke of the brush across my wavy hair, before continuing, “what it feels like to pray for their death yet wish for one more day. There are things you do because you have to and things you do because it is the right thing to do.”
“She’s not going to look dead, is she? I don’t want to see her if she’s dead looking.”
“Enough, Dominic. She’s not dead, and you’re going to be quiet and respectable and offer your condolences.”
***
I emerged from the office to find Hailey still sitting in the kitchen, alone. I knew it was no accident that she was there waiting for me. Had she been waiting here this whole time like an abandoned kitten waiting on someone’s doorstep? Knowing Hailey, it was probably partly to find out what exactly was the reason that Scout brought them back early and partly that she knew that whatever it was, affected me. Hailey was a natural nurturer and was good at consoling me, except her usual guiles were out of commission, what with the full house.
“What are you still doing here?” I said, breaking the silence. Her eyes stayed glued to mine, assessing me as she rose from where she sat at the table to make her way over to where I stood. At only 5 foot 4, Hailey looked so small, standing nearly a foot shorter than me and nearly half my weight. It’s funny if you think about it; she was like a mouse trying to soothe a snake. Except instead of wanting to devour her, I simply wanted to wrap myself around her and protect her from everyone else that looked at my wife like she was prey.
Her arms wound around me, her face burrowing into my chest as she pulled me closer. We didn’t speak. I simply held her in my arms, listening to the sound of her breathing, letting the sweet scent of her rock me into a numbed state.
Hailey had a way of making me forget about the life I had before her, but it felt like the universe was conspiring to do everything in its power to draw me away from her. To be honest, taking Hailey was the easy part. It was everything after that that was a daily struggle. I guess that’s what happens when you find something you truly want—you have to work that much harder to keep it, and believe me I’d never worked so hard in my fucking life.
I felt Hailey’s chin pressing into my sternum as she peered up at me with those soul-piercing denim blue eyes of hers. Matakia mou. My little eyes. Those eyes had the power to leave me unhinged, and with the way she was looking at me at that moment, I knew she wanted answers, but I just couldn’t give her any. Not yet.
The story of my parents was nothing new to her—that much I divulged when she was still technically a prisoner in my home. I think when she asked about my parents she expected them to be murderers or at least two people capable of raising a monster unscrupulous enough to kidnap another human. What she wasn’t expecting to hear was that my parents were sweet, though a bit too occupied with work—still, there was definitely love there. I watched the cogs working, struggling with painting the portrait of my youth and the jagged road that led me to one of the uglier moments of my life.
When she realized I wasn’t going to say anything, she started to clear her throat as my silence stole all the air from the room, leaving it Sahara-Desert dry.
“What was that?” she asked nudging her head in the direction of the office.
“Scout and I have some security things we’re working on.” Not the full truth, but not exactly a lie either. It was enough to make me feel good about my response, but I could see that she was thinking harder, trying to decipher the meaning behind my words. She had no reason not to accept my words at face value, but she was a smart one. If I let her linger over my answer too long, she’d have ten other questions lined up right behind it.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Jessa is putting Ellie down, and I believe Clema is working on the laundry. Poor woman. I hope you’ve given her a raise since we had Ellie because lord knows Clema’s doing laundry like every day.” Her words cracked through the numbness, and a small smile broke my face. It wasn’t so long ago that Hailey damn-near despised Clema just for the simple fact that she worked for me, and now she treated Clema not like one would a mother, but maybe a close aunt? I’m sure it was nice for Clema to finally have a woman in the house, not that she would ever complain about working solely for me, but I could see that having Hailey around had been good for Clema, too. There was a spark in Clema that I hadn’t seen in a long time, maybe ever.
“Does that mean I have you all to myself?” I whispered, leaning over her frame, lining my cheek against hers to speak into her ear. A chill sparked through her body, sending slight vibrations that shook her small frame. I felt the muscle in her cheek twitch, alluding to the smile she tried to contain.
“You’re going to have to wait for that. Ellie’s due for her feeding soon. How about we watch a movie instead?” When she sounded so hopeful like that, I couldn’t say no so I let her lead me by the hand to the living room where we spent the next few hours watching something I only pretended to watch. My mind was still reeling with possibilities of what Scout would find.
Maybe this would bring us closer to finding out the truth. To finding out what happened to my parents. I didn’t want to get too hopeful, but I had more resources at my disposal now, and since I’d stepped down as an active board member, I had more time to personally see to it that the trail didn’t run cold this time.
I pull the blue checkered tie from the wooden spindle that holds my father’s ties like those old-fashioned drying racks I’ve seen displayed in those dated paintings of American life. The kind of mindless art displayed in plenty of my friends’ homes.
His tie feels soft like polyester, but I know the fabric sliding through my fingers is too expensive to be such a shitty material. I toss the tie around the collar of my shirt and the ends dangle down my chest like those scarves graduates wear. I continue taking inventory of my father’s clothes, many of which I’ve never seen him wear, or if I have, it’d been months since the last time he aired them out.
My father being away on business was more common than him being home. I grab his navy blue blazer that matches the darkest squares in the tie. Shuffling into his blazer, the sleeves swallow my long limbs up—reminding me that though I’d hit a growth spurt, making my pediatrician liken me to a giant for my age, I still hadn’t filled out.
The snick of the door alerts me that I’m no longer alone, and I scramble to shake off my father’s jacket, not wanting my mother or Clema to catch me playing dress-up. I hitch my shoulder and the blazer falls to the floor. I’m all gangly limbs and two left feet as I fall all over myself to retrieve the jacket. I manage to pull myself together and reach for the now-vacant hanger resting in the sea of hangers displaying crisply ironed shirts and slacks folded in half. The jacket falls into place just as the closet door creaks open.
“Dom. You scared me.” My mother nearly jumps with fright at seeing me standing flush with my father’s clothes. I don’t look suspicious at all.
“I’m sorry. I was just—”
“That’s my favorite of your father’s, too.” She points to the ribbon of blue still dangling across my neck. In all my scrambling to return the blazer to its hanger, I forgot all about the tie I snagged.
“Here. Let me.” She moves in closer. I’m now half a foot taller than my mother, so she has to reach up to fasten the tie at my neck. I watch the focus in her eyes as she loops, swoops, and pulls like learning to tie shoes for adults. There is tension between her eyebrows, something I’ve be
en seeing more frequently, but whenever I ask her about it, she doesn’t offer any explanation.
“There,” she says, patting the tie on my chest. She steers me to the mirror and smiles at my reflection.
“You are your father’s son.” She smiles wistfully.
That wasn’t the first time I’d been told I looked like my father. We had the same dark hair and eyes set against tan skin like granite amongst sand. I was slightly taller than him and definitely bigger due to my time spent in the gym, but the man staring at me wasn’t seeing my larger stature or the shape of my mother’s eyes; he saw my father. I could tell by the way he gaped at me, half expecting for me to vanish into thin air at any moment.
As expected, Scout tracked down the information needed within an hour of our conversation yesterday. I didn’t want to leave immediately because I knew that would alarm Hailey. Instead, we took the first flight out of New York and found ourselves in a suburb outside of Chicago. The home was a red brick house with a small stoop just on the other side of a large elm tree that took up most of the front yard and made it impossible to see the windows from the street.
The account the money was transferred to belonged to a man named Ezra Michaels. He lived in that house with his wife, Ann, and their daughter, Ava. The information Scout pulled seemed pretty nondescript. The house that we were at was recently purchased, as in the moving truck probably left mere moments before we arrived, but other than that, they lived normal lives—both working office jobs. I didn’t give Scout enough time to give me the laundry list of their activities, opting for the condensed version.
After waiting for what felt like hours, a blue Camry pulled into their driveway. Ezra got out of the car. I knew it was him from the picture that Scout had showed me. The man had jet-black hair with gray threading throughout. He was a short man with an engorged waist and the beginnings of a jowl neck. His round-rimmed glasses did their best to conceal the bushy eyebrows, which were his distinguishing feature. His eyebrows were shaped to look like one thick strip of hair that had been mowed down the center.